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The man of my dreams was the one I never dreamed of.

In honor of all the mush-gushy-gooey-lovey-dovey stuff February always inspires, I thought I would dust off an old piece – I’ts simple and maybe a little silly, but it always makes my heart smile . . .

The man of my dreams

When I was a little girl, I dreamed, as little girls quite often do, of the man I would one day marry. I just knew he would be a super hero. He would have the ability of flight, the power to read minds, and he would obviously be capable of leaping the tallest of buildings. Our lives would be filled with adventure.

Then one day I realized what a silly little girl fantasy that had been, Super hero, ha! I was going to marry a rock star of course. He would have totally cool hair and look amazing in spandex. He would compose epic ballads about our love and dedicate all his albums to me.

One day though, that dream faded as well. I came to realize men simply don’t look good in spandex and I would never want to spend my life with someone who had better hair than I did. I was growing up and my dreams were growing with me, I realized I would obviously need someone quite rich to make me happy.

The older I grew though, the more I simply wanted companionship. I soon concluded unless I met a man who had a huge inheritance, he would have to work all the time to make the big bucks I thought I desired, leaving me alone and miserable. They say money cannot buy happiness and I believe them.

So, I would marry a free spirit, an artist perhaps or a wandering poet. We would hitch-hike the world with only our love to guide us. This was the most fleeting of my fantasies. I’d heard hitch hiking was dangerous; I really hated camping out and the thought of snuggling up after being on the road for a week without a shower was more than a bit unappealing.

So that left me only one choice, I came to the final conclusion I would never marry. I would make my own way in the world without the pressure of finding that perfect man. I was at peace. It sucked. I knew I really didn’t want to be alone for the rest of my life so I decided to simply wait and see who God would send my way.

I tucked my dreams of the man I someday may have married in a little pocket of my heart, keeping them safely hidden away. Those dreams hadn’t crossed my mind for years until one afternoon, while folding boxer shorts and matching up itty bitty baby booties, it hit me like a ton of bricks . . .

It had happened. I was married, had been for some time actually. My dream of a lifetime love had become a reality while I wasn’t paying attention. My dream man can’t fly nor can he leap tall buildings, and thank God he can’t read minds, but he is a super hero of great magnitude in the eyes of our children.

He could never be a rock star, keeping time to the rhythm of a beat is not one of his strong points, he does sing softly with the radio sometimes, it always brings a smile to my heart. His doesn’t have to tease his hair each day and thankfully does not own any pants made of spandex.

He may not be rich, but he works hard to provide for us. The love we share makes us wealthy beyond measure; the happiness in our home could have never been bought.

He is more of a perfectionist than a free spirit. He’s soft-spoken and sweet. He may not be a poet, but his whispered words of love are precious and sincere.

I’m glad I’d forgotten to remain true to my vow of solitude. God, in his infinite wisdom, had sent to me the perfect love and made all of my dreams come true.

Crystal R. Cook

I still see forever

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So I met this boy a while back . . . almost thirty years ago, he had the prettiest blue eyes and when I looked in them, I knew I would be lost in them forever. 20 years ago today we giggled our way through wedding vows and I still see forever when I look in his eyes . . .

Unconditional Love

What is unconditional love?

“The measure of love is to love without measure.” Saint Augustine

What is unconditional love? Exactly what it sounds like, love without condition. We cannot truly love if we place conditions upon our giving of it. I’m not certain as human beings we are completely capable of embracing the concept of unconditional love in its truest and purest form, in my heart I believe we can come close.

I know without a doubt I am loved unconditionally by my Heavenly Father, and I return such love in faith. I am loved without condition by the ones who gave me life and by the ones I have given life to. I’ve felt the power of love; I have seen it and I have been blessed with it.

Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it his not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. 1 Corinthians 13:4-8

Mother Theresa said, “If you judge people, you have no time to love them.” It seems to be a part of human nature to judge our fellow man based on nothing more than learned ignorance without regard to reason. While this may not be true for all, it is the unfortunate reality of many. Perhaps those who place conditions upon their love and acceptance of others were never given this gift of powerful and consuming love, and in turn, do not know how to give it.

“I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality.” Martin Luther King, Jr..

In their most basic definitions, we take these two words, which together symbolize one of God’s greatest gifts, and we can see the simplistic beauty they create when combined; unconditional love truly means love without condition.

Unconditional: Adj. – Not limited by conditions; absolute.

Love: Noun – There are many definitions pertaining to the word love, among them are . . .

– A profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.

– A feeling of warm, personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child or friend.

– The benevolent affection of God for his creatures, or the reverent affection due from them to God.

Unconditional love is the purest of love; it is the truest of love.

It is the love our Lord has for us, the love we carry for him.

Unconditional love is the expectant mother, who without thinking, places her hand upon her growing belly to caress the new life growing within her.

Unconditional love is the father with trembling hands, cradling his newborn babe in the tender warmth of his arms.

Unconditional love is the crying baby, soothed by a mothers soft song.

Unconditional love is sitting by the bedside of someone you love, letting them know it’s okay to let go.

Unconditional love is the butterflies stirring in your heart when that special someone reaches for your hand.

It is a shoulder to cry on, it is forgetting and forgiving.

It is allowing for a mistake now and then.

It is faith, belief, and hope.

It is not expectant, asks for nothing in return and lasts forever.

Unconditional love is a gift worthy to be given and a blessing to receive.

Luciano de Crescenzo whispered beautifully profound words when he said, “We are each of us angels with only one wing; and we can only fly by embracing one another.”

Crystal R. Cook

Innocent Embrace

Innocent Embrace

The warmth of his hand
softly covers mine
our fingers embrace
as our souls intertwine

Our hands become one
forged in passions fire
strong as steel
soft as desire

Loves innocent touch
sets my heart to race
when his hand covers mine
and our fingers embrace

Crystal R. Cook

*Image by Tony Hutchings on Getty Images

This stinks.

imageI want to thank, and by thank I mean throttle, the geniuses behind the science that says second-hand flatulence is good for our health.

The men, it had to be men, behind this insidious study of smell should be flogged. I have no information regarding the validity of these claims or how accurate the reporting of them was, but the damage has been done.

When they invent charcoal bed sheets I’ll be first in line. I need softly spun cotton with odor absorbent fibers woven into a smooth, 600 thread count layer of protection so I can sleep without fear of awaking in the night to a fog of funk.

Was this brilliant breakthrough really something we needed to know? Will it be of benefit to mankind? Well, I suppose it already is, but what about womankind?

I am a fragile flower with a sensitive sniffer for goodness sake. I am the lone female in a house with four men, this does not bode well for me, it doesn’t smell all that great either.

At this rate, my heart will remain strong and I will be disease free for-fricking-ever. My mental well-being however, was already in question before this news . . . broke

Thank you science folk, thank you very, effing, much.

The Heart of a Man or Dear Women . . .

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Now I must speak to the heart of a woman. The heart that loves, gives and longs to be cradled. The heart that would gladly beat for another if it would save them. The very heart that needs while focusing on the needs of others. The heart that beats, the heart that breaks. The heart filled with love for the man she’s promised her lifelong devotion to.

Women carry many burdens often too heavy for them to bear. We must be strong when we feel weak. We must sacrifice and we must never give in to the desperation sometimes filling us with doubt. We look to the men we love to pick us up when we fall, we cannot understand why they sometimes don’t seem to see our plight, they don’t seem to see our need.

Men often carry their burdens alone, never reaching out for assistance. They live with the pressures of providing food and shelter and clothing to the family they’ve promised to care for. They think of the future while their todays become yesterdays. They forge ahead to maintain the life they’ve made for the ones they love.

We can sometimes take their efforts for granted, they need to know we value them, we appreciate all they provide. Just as we long to be recognized when we put all we are into caring for our family, they too need to know we notice just how much of themselves they give to do the same.

Men sometimes seem to live on a different plane of existence than we do, their feet touch the ground when they walk. Their vision doesn’t always exceed past what their eyes alone can see. They were brought up to be strong, analytical and grounded. Society told them they shouldn’t give in to emotions or exhibit too much tenderness.

As women, we see with so much more than sight, we envision things with emotion and can be easily frustrated when the men we love do not. Where we are feeling, they are often thinking. They express themselves in their own way, just as we do, the differences need to be recognized. Sometimes when we don’t see an emotional reaction we feel slighted, just look into their eyes and you will find what you’re looking for.

Compassion doesn’t always come easy to some, the world has deemed too much compassion in a man a weakness and men are not supposed to be weak. They’re the breadwinners, the kings of the castle. Young boys are too often given the message tears are for girls and sissies, fear is unacceptable and expression of deep feelings are best restrained.

Societal roles for men are ingrained in the culture in which they are raised, the roots of these expected roles run deep and are difficult to escape. The antiquated ideals of what a man should be and how he should behave are inherited from one generation to the next.

Mothers and fathers of sons can contribute to these notions or try to combat them, but sometimes the world at large has a louder voice. Girls are encouraged to use their imagination, they’re called creative while a young boy is called a dreamer. Girls are taught to talk about what is in their hearts, it’s a sign of maturity. Boys are told to grow up and be a man.

Little girls are encouraged to cry when they’re sad, outwardly express joy and happiness. Little boys are told to suck it up when the world causes them pain, they’re expected to maintain restraint when they feel joy.

As young children, girls are given praise and accolades for a job well done while so many boys are simply given a pat on the back. They grow to be men who don’t know how to react to sincere praise and consequently have a difficult time giving it. As parents, we need to model what we want our children to become.

It’s no wonder so many men and women can look upon the same thing and each see something the other cannot. Not all men are ignoring our tender hearts, they may have never been taught how to care for them. They may not have been told a woman needs to be wrapped in the warmth of their love. They didn’t learn communication is the key to a life of fulfillment.

As women we must try to look past the man and see the little boy inside who thinks and feels and dreams. The little boy who longs to release the long bottled up emotions he carries within, the carefree spirit that wants to laugh and create, but is afraid.

We tend to take it personally when the man we love comes home and doesn’t seem interested in our day, when his brow is furrowed we take offense when it may simply be he had a difficult day and needs to decompress. He needs to be given that opportunity, we need to remember it isn’t always about us.

There may very well always be this distance between a man and a woman, we need to nurture the little boy within, understand his fear and his need to stay hidden. We need to know even though he may not always show his love in the ways we wish, he would not be by our side if he didn’t feel all the things he may be yet unable to show.

There are men in this world who are not bound by these manmade chains restraining their inner selves. These men are examples to which other men should aspire. To the women who have been blessed with these precious few, thank God for them and be certain they know just how thankful you truly are to have them in your life.

One of the most fragile and precious things a woman may ever hold is the heart of a man . . .

The Heart of a Woman or An Open Letter To the Men of the World.

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It’s no secret women mystify, confuse and excite men. It’s no secret a woman can turn a man into a clueless mountain of mush. It seems to be a secret among men however, that they are not entirely powerless in the battle between the sexes.

This is an open letter to the men of the world . . . You will be reading about women. Now before you get excited, I must tell you, it’s about feelings, expectations, needs, and desires. Things you need to know.

A woman is fragile. No matter how strong they are in the face of the world, deep inside they are still the little girls who believe in true love, fairy tales and happily ever afters. They can hurt so deeply they feel they will be lost in the pain and they can love so much they will sacrifice their dreams for the sake of it.

A woman longs to be held when she cries, or at the very least have her feelings acknowledged. To turn your back on her tears is to turn your back on her heart. A woman desires compassion and understanding. She craves kindness and needs encouragement. Without these things she begins to build a wall with the broken pieces of her heart.

Self esteem doesn’t come naturally to most women, it needs to be planted and cared for. It needs to be nurtured with a compliment every now and then. Without proper care it will wither away. To a woman, love is more than words. Love is more than existing together. Emotional intimacy fulfills them.

Watching a father play with his children fills her heart, listening to him read them a story brings her warmth. Holding her hand while you watch the television or saying I love you for no reason other than you do can bring tears to her eyes. Asking her if she could use a helping hand when she is elbow deep in dishwater might make her heart skip a beat.

When she says she’s tired believe her, when she says she’s frustrated don’t take it personally. If you are the source of her frustration, take steps to relieve it. Know without you her heart would no longer beat the same. When her day has been too much to bear and her mood is at odds with you, be calm and attempt understanding, especially when you don’t understand.

A woman gives more than she has to her family. She spends every moment thinking of them and caring for them, putting herself last. It’s your job to put her first and make sure she has what she may sometimes deprive herself of. She would give her life to do the same for you.

A man must fulfill the emotional needs of a woman or her flames of passion will smolder and cease to burn. If at first mornings light she wakes with your arms around her, she’ll long to feel them once more when the sun again sets.

It doesn’t take much to free the butterflies stirring within her soul, a scribbled note on the table, ‘I’ll miss you today.’, can make her spirits soar. If you look into her eyes every now and then, you can see her devotion. If you hold her close you can feel it with every beat of her heart.

A woman gives, and when she receives, she gives all the more. Bad days are inevitable. Disagreements and opposed opinions are natural. Giving them voice for too long is not. Women desire communication, pieces of them cease to exist without it. They need a connection, they need to know without a doubt your hearts beat as one.

They need to hear it, see it and feel it. A man cannot assume a woman knows how they feel simply because they spoke vows once upon a time and he is present in the home. She needs to be reassured and reminded or her light will begin to dim.

A man will never hold anything more fragile and precious than the heart of a woman.

After the storm.

After the storm

Storm raged.

Crimson rains fell.

Fragile flower
shattered.

Shards
held together
by faith,
hope,
escape.

Pieces of
broken promises
scatter
beneath
timid footsteps
of freedom.

Cleansing rains fell
as new
days began
to dawn.

Never look
back.

Crystal R. Cook

Domestic abuse hotline

The End of Her Pain

The End of Her Pain

Going through more old files I came across this one . . . It’s filled with a wee bit of affectation, but I was fifteen when I wrote it, I vaguely remember it being a writing assignment. 

The End of Her Pain

Her weapon of choice was words. Words forged from the icy steel of her anger. She stared quietly at him, through him. He felt uncomfortable and vulnerable as her eyes penetrated deep into his soul. She spoke not, simply let her eyes talk in the absence of voice.

The biting silence was nearly enough to tear him apart. He felt his hands trembling as anxiety began to blanket the air about him. It seemed an eternity had passed before he felt the sting of her first blow.

“I can no longer bear the torment of what you call love.” she finally spoke and he felt he’d been struck so hard he should fall from the force it.

“I no longer wish to be shackled in the prison of your heart,” as the words darted from her lips his pulse quickened, confusion and anger wrestled within him. “The cold and darkness of it has dulled my senses and robbed my soul of peace.” Her monotone voice made him uneasy in his own skin.

He searched for words of his own to defend himself, no words would lend themselves to his desperation. His pleading eyes looked to hers for mercy but found none. She remained unstirred and unmoved by his obvious plight. If anything, she revelled in it.

A flurry of questions raged within him. Had he turned this sweet soul so sour and bitter? What had he done to deserve such an attack? His mind raced for the answers he longed for. The answers did come, for the first time it was clear to him. As his smug arrogance began to fade from the reality of her pain, he realized what he had not done for her was the abuse she’d endured for so long.

Always he had thought wounds were made with anger and harsh words, or the pounding of a fist. Now, in his memories, he so clearly recalls all he had chosen to ignore in the past. He sadly sits and thinks of how her lovely smile would fade when he dismissed her dreams. He saw for the first time the many tears that had fallen as he turned from her in times of need. He felt guilt for all the times everything else had been more important than her.

In his newfound clarity of mind he knew the damage he had done. Years of neglect and selfishness had left far worse a wound than any weapon could have delivered. He wanted redemption. He wanted to fall to his knees and beg for her forgiveness, but his arrogant pride had not yet been fully broken, he couldn’t bring himself to do the only thing that could end this torment.

She looked into his eyes and knew she did not have to speak another word. She could plainly see in his desperation she had bruised him, but as she turned to walk away from him, forever, she simply said, “I hope you find happiness.”

As the distance between them grew they both knew he never would. She’d made sure of that. Somehow her words had changed him, he now felt unworthy of happiness. He’d taken his chance and tossed it foolishly aside in the blind assumption he could do no wrong.

He’d taken her love for granted. When the petals of her love began to wither and fall he crushed them beneath his feet. He could have saved the beautiful flower of her love, he could have quenched her thirst and filled her world with light, but he didn’t. He left her to wilt in his shadow and now, nothing would ever grow where she’d once been.

She felt the slightest twinge of pity for him, knowing the misery she’d left him to. He would forever walk alone with his thoughts of what was, what could have been, and what will never be. As she raised her eyes toward the sun, taking in the warmth of it once again, she knew her pain and sorrow was forever ended and his had only just begun.

Crystal R. Cook 1985

 

You are . . .

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You are today
as you were
yesterday
and will be
in the days
yet to come
my love
my life
my dreams
and my
anchor

You are my
every hope
for the
future
and my
fondest
memories
of the past

You are my
every sunrise
and every
wish I’ve
softly wished

You are the
answer to
many prayers
whispered
through
lonely tears

You are
the keeper
of my heart
for now
and for
always
my love

Crystal R. Cook 2001